


Tipping Over the Edge of Yearning

by solactier



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream emotionally spirals because George is pretty, Dream is a hopeless romantic idiot, Dream's POV, Florida man is in too deep, Fluff, Internal Conflict, M/M, Short Story, Short scene, Yearning, cute I guess, listen i dont know how to tag, oh no he's so gorgeous i think i'm in love type beat, playful interactions, this was kind of rushed but thats okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solactier/pseuds/solactier
Summary: It is then that Dream becomes thankful for his faceless nature, together with his room’s dim lighting, that masks the red undertones in his face. George has uttered the simplest of phrases, yet is it potent enough to kick Dream’s heart into overdrive. With a hitch of his breath, sensations of warmth adequately pump through his vessels, up his neck, to his ears, then tinglingly down to his toes. And it’s with this shocking thrill that Dream realizes three things.One: These reactions have nothing to do with the fact they won the tournament.Two: George is absolutely and indisputably gorgeous.Three: He, Dream, is so completely and utterlyfucked.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 251





	Tipping Over the Edge of Yearning

**Author's Note:**

> Helloo  
> I wrote this in the span of three sleepless days, so I apologize if it's not the best, but I do like the concept of Dream internally shedding gay tears due to a certain pretty boy lol. This is simply a fun piece that I also wrote for some description practice, and should the cc's express any form of discomfort, this will be taken down.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Any comments, whether it be critiques, suggestions, or compliments are greatly appreciated<3

Multicolored firework particles flicker throughout the screen as the winning statement is displayed for Dream to see, followed by a sonorous symphony of _let’s go_ ’s and cheers. Sapnap has immediately resulted to photo-bombing every other team while Karl flaunts his ever-so-high win rate in the background. The two shamelessly showcase their endearing puerility while he and George receive numerous compliments from participants of the event.

Minutes go by in this exchange of exuberance, and soon enough, Dream informs his friends and audience that he’ll be logging off while assuring his settled presence in the call. He isn’t going anywhere.

“Wait, Dream, hold on,” George abruptly begins, causing his friend to raise a curious eyebrow, “you haven’t seen the podium room yet. Come back on.”

Dream huffs in amusement at the _clear_ significance of the situation, “It’s fine. I’ve seen it multiple times anyway. Even been on it once or twice.” He snarks with a tone that practically reveals the growing smirk on his face, and George is absolutely not having it.

“I don’t care. This time is more important,” George replies, sounding like he’s smiling himself, “at least turn on my stream and look at it.”

Dream rolls his eyes in acquiescence, “Fine, okay, just your stream.”

A gentle glow washes over his pupils as he loads George’s live broadcast, his perspective of Minecraft and running avatar displaying on screen. Dream’s eyes intuitively drift over to the face-cam fixed in the corner every so often as George’s visage seems to settle his heart, yet simultaneously tilt it askew. It’s contradictory and odd, and at one point or another, Dream’s glare lingers. He takes notice of the compliment George’s navy hoodie issues his dire brown eyes, the one side of a headset positioned behind his ear, and the contrast of his beaming bright face and dark hair. He looks until the array of colorful blocks blur and congenial voices attenuate, until George is his primary center of attraction.

A slight warmth brushes across his cheeks, but in due time, Dream blinks, and that simple singular action snaps him back to pure consciousness and compels him to avert his attention from any emotional happenings. _God_ , he tilts his head back and inhales, _this_ _is_ _stupid_.

“Dream?” faintly calls a voice, detaching Dream from his all-too-flustering reverie and inducing him to register what’s on his monitor, which is the video game and definitely not the stupid boy with the _stupidly_ pretty face.

Dream watches George’s avatar sprint across the tournament lobby and into the grand hall, right up to the platforms that showcase their winning selves, “Yes, yeah, George, I’m here,” he affirms with a slight tilt of his lips.

“Look!” George yells. His game character has come to a stop and is pointing at the names on display. Out of the four players on the team, George is only facing two names, himself and Dream’s.

Dream barely has a chance to absorb this before taking notice of George, who is throwing the camera a sideways glance with eyes suffused of softened glee, one that matches his bright, soft-pink cheeks. His gaze is half-lidded, and while it isn’t exactly bubbling with happiness, it remains sincere. It’s a more genuine, enkindled look wholly meant for Dream’s viewing.

George’s voice is careful, and the corners of his lips rise into a confident smile, “We did it,” he then says. The line of words hangs next to Dream’s ears, threatening to ring them into jubilation at any given moment. His breath shallows, and he raises a hand to his pulsing throat as he fervently waits for George’s continuing statement, “we make a good team.”

It is then that Dream becomes thankful for his faceless nature, together with his room’s dim lighting, that masks the red undertones in his face. George has uttered the simplest of phrases, yet is it potent enough to kick Dream’s heart into overdrive. With a hitch of his breath, sensations of warmth adequately pump through his vessels, up his neck, to his ears, then tinglingly down to his toes. And it’s with this shocking thrill that Dream realizes three things.

One: These reactions have nothing to do with the fact they won the tournament.

Two: George is absolutely and indisputably gorgeous.

Three: He, Dream, is so completely and utterly _fucked_.

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it, something short and sweet which I hope was enjoyable.  
> Once again, any and all comments are appreciated :)
> 
> tumblr and twitter: @solactier


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